


Divine Musical Tastes

by TriffidsandCuckoos



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Song: Africa (Toto), Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-06 04:02:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17932487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriffidsandCuckoos/pseuds/TriffidsandCuckoos
Summary: Panto decides it is time to sing Silas the greatest love song in Wendimoor.





	Divine Musical Tastes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flightinflame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flightinflame/gifts).



> Blame and pity FlightinFlame, who received the series of messages which concluded with deciding _Africa_ is clearly Wendimoor's traditional ballad. Also blame the radio for choosing this song when I was trapped getting my hair cut.

"Are you sure about this, Panto?"

Panto smiled down at his sister, adjusting the strap around his neck. "More sure than I have ever been about anything."

"Last week you declared yourself the greatest swordsman in all of Wendimoor."

"And that is a fact." He patted the blade at his side, freshly cleaned after their tournament. "That is something all know, but this – this is something I hold true in my heart."

Litzibitz rolled her eyes. He did not take it personally, for she always did as such when he spoke of the love inside him. Truly, he struggled to believe that it was less than a year since that day in the Comic Caves, sheltering from the storm by the prophetic pictures with Silas Dengdamor. It felt as if a part of him had always known exactly where the baron prince was, aware whenever he watched tournaments or passed by in the marketplace, but on that day they had opened their hearts to one another and Panto had discovered dreams of happiness which made him never want to sleep again.

"I think you are being a bobo fool."

Panto gasped, pressing a hand to his chest, before reaching out to pin Litzibitz under his arm. "And where did you learn such language, little sister?"

She squirmed, and while he had planned to let her go once his point had been made, she rather forced his hand by twisting enough to slam her foot into his leg and her elbow into his side. Perhaps he might have dodged were he not so encumbered, but alas, his concern for his instrument won out.

"I am not five years old anymore," she told him, her head held proudly aloft as she spoke the traditional declaration. "I speak what I want, and what I want is for you to realise this is a mistake."

"How could it possibly be a mistake?" he laughed, now reassured that she had not damaged the wood. Its music would still ring true.

"He is a Dengdamor!" she hissed. "I know you care for him but if you should move too soon – "

"It is not too soon."

" – then you might lose him!"

Litzibitz took a deep breath, hands on her hips. Panto felt his usual smile fading, but could not stop it. The very thought that she might be telling the truth opened up a void inside him which could conjure no mirth, nor even the idea of it. Silas was the dearest thing in the world to him; he would never have dreamed of doing this for anyone lesser.

Perhaps his distress showed clear, for Litzibitz lost some of her annoyance and placed her hand on his shoulder. "I do not wish to make you sad," she said, voice almost too calm to belong to his little sister. "Only be certain. You sing to but one person in your life."

Panto nodded, patting her hand in gratitude. "And I would have no other."

\----------

Usually thwarting the Dengdamor guards provided excellent sport, goading and sparring as much for his own enjoyment as to let Silas watch. However, as Silas had said softly and Litzibitz had scolded, it also brought quite the wrong sort of attention. All well and good for games in the wood, but not when declarations of love were at stake.

Dodging through the grounds of the castle like a raccoyote rankled, but Panto had learnt to tolerate much for his love. All this sneaking and pretence tore at him, yet Silas was worth it. He was worth everything.

Beneath Silas' balcony, he wondered whether to simply begin and draw his love out through the sound of his music. However, custom must be observed, and therefore he ducked down and retrieved the small pebbles found under any bedroom window to cast and gain his love's attention.

The first couple tapped against the glass with no effect; then, wonderfully, he saw a shadow behind the curtain, and then Silas emerged blinking onto the balcony, mouth curving into that glorious awestruck smile, as if Panto had given him the Moon itself.

"What are you doing here?" Silas whispered, acting concerned for all that Panto could see the light inside him. Truly, it was the cruellest blow of all, that they must force themselves to remain apart.

Rather than answer, Panto readied his instrument, and he saw Silas' eyes catch on it in confusion. "What – "

Panto strummed a chord, and those lovely dark eyes widened.

"Are you really...?" He trailed off, and sure enough Panto saw no denial, only delight.

He started quietly, overwhelmed by the feelings blossoming inside him. He had tried to tell Silas of the true strength of his feelings, but he was a swordsman, not a poet who could turn words and gestures so sweetly like Silas. He needed actions. He needed to show how deeply his love surged. Deep enough to sing this, the love song of Wendimoor, its strongest and oldest. His father had sung it to his mother; Silas' parents had played it at their wedding over their first dance.

" _I hear the drums echoing tonight, but she hears only whispers of some quiet conversation._ "

Oh, that he could capture that expression on Silas' face: the bright joy, the disbelief and the love, the same love.

By the time he reached the chorus, Panto no longer cared who heard. He wanted the world to know.

" _It's gonna take a lot to take me away from you,_ " and it was as if he was hearing the words for the first time, the certainty that this song was always meant for them. " _There's nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do_ ," and he willed Silas to hear the truth of those words.

And he must have, for he was singing along now, sweet and wondrous: " _I blessed the rains down in Africa; gonna take some time to do the things we never had..._ "


End file.
